


Growing into His Skin

by sunshineboy1981



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming back from the dead, Lost Sam Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is Lucifer's True Vessel, Season/Series 05, Soulmates, Suicide, The first apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-07 23:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineboy1981/pseuds/sunshineboy1981
Summary: What would happen if Sam were to die long before the first apocalypse?Inspired by Thus with a Kiss I Die by FallenKy, but obviously with my own twists and headcanons.





	1. Shattering

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Thus with a Kiss I Die](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16644746) by [FallenKy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenKy/pseuds/FallenKy). 

The idea that Dean's world would keep spinning was idiotic. A fantasy thrown at him by confused strangers who knew nothing of who the Winchesters were nor how the group functioned. They had no idea that Dean had just lost half of who he was. All that was left of the entire universe now was the right here right now; just a boy sitting in the middle of a shitty hotel room and clutching his baby brother. He didn't even remember cutting him down.

Sam had been found hanging from the ceiling by a pair of ratty jeans, denim twice his age. One leg supported Sam and the other was tied to the ceiling fan, the only thing in the room tall enough to pull such a cruel stunt as to choke the seventeen-year-old sasquatch. Screams were leaving Dean's mouth before he was even able to get to the boy, "Sammy" being the alarm that called half the motel out of their rooms. Those who didn't answer the first did respond after the following broken "Sam". With enough time, the entire block gathered around room 117 to see the twenty-two-year-old checking the vitals of a corpse. He was clutching the boy's wrist as though it were a lifeline, quickly fading for every second there was no movement.

It took over half an hour for anybody to call the police. Some blame urban apathy, some blamed morbid fascination, but the result was the same. Sam had been dead two hours by the time anybody arrived. Even longer by the time they could wrestle the body - already in rigor mortis - from Dean's arms. The hunter had thrown kicks and punches, screaming hysterically as his attacks became less calculated and more desperate. EMT's worked like Hell to get the body away from the older.

"You don't understand!" Dean had been screaming. "He's gotta be okay! His birthday's tomorrow... gonna be eighteen..."

The entire staff needed counseling after this case. There was hardly an investigation, nobody could get Dean to talk, but from eyewitness testimony and forensics, the kid had been dead almost an hour before the screaming had taken place. There was no way that he could have been killed nor saved by his brother. That didn't stop Dean from blaming himself.

Sam's note was in Dean's duffel, which was probably for the best because his own was taken for evidence. Maybe that was why he did it like that; the kid had always been smart. Dean never shared the note, <strike>not even with his dad,</strike> especially not with his dad. The words haunted him.

_I'm sick, De. I'll get you sick, too._

_There's something wrong with me, a darkness. It's in my blood._

_This is the only way I can protect you I'll protect you the same way you protected me._

_I do love you, I swear. Just too much, just the wrong way._

_I'm so sorry._

Dean didn't tell anybody about Sam's feelings, kept his mouth shut about how he felt the same way. He kept it close to the chest and allowed his heart to rot right next to the rest of his life. In some cemetery in Lawrence right next to his mother. There was no way the police were going to give Sam's body back and John wasn't going to use the plot anyway. Not to mention that Sammy always wanted normal. What was more normal than being buried next to his mom. 

The two remaining pulled a Winchester; John didn't ask about that day and Dean didn't talk about it. Nobody mentioned Sam unless prompted and even then they only said he was gone. 

The only evidence that half of Dean was missing was a neatly packed duffel bag in the trunk and a wad of paper in Dean's wallet, a few ratty pictures surrounded by an old letter.

* * *

Somehow they did nothing to heal the sting. The Winchesters survived hunt after hunt, loss after loss, the death of friends and partners. Revelation after revelation.

John died shortly after sharing that Sam was meant to be one of Azazel's special children, leaving Dean to miss everything and contemplate. Maybe the suicide was for the best, considering the plans, but that didn't make anything any better. Now he had to both mourn his father and re-mourn his baby brother. 

After selling his soul for information on these special children, Dean stopped it. In his last year, he cut all contact with anybody who wasn't hunting with him, either on a case with Jo and Ellen or Bobby. On his last day, Dean layed out all of his possessions for his surrogate father. He even let him read Sammy's suicide note as long as he promised to keep it safe.

Bobby read the note with a neutral expression, sometimes even asking Dean to help him read Sammuy's handwriting. The kid was such a mess. (Kid, he was just a kid, seventeen, oh God). The man held it close and promised he'd keep it safe. 

* * *

After only a year, Dean was pulled from Hell by an angel. Castiel was a lot to get used to, along with even more revelations. 

"That's odd," the angel looked around Bobby's house. "Where is the other Winchester?"

"John's gone, feathers," Bobby huffed. "Aren't you s'pposed to know that? Bein' an angel and all."

Cas nodded. "John's death was foreseen, but where is Sam?"

The room went quiet.

"...He's dead, too," Dean choked on the words as they left his mouth. "Offed himself at seventeen."

"Why? That wasn't in heaven's plan."

"Me." Dean looked down despite the confidence in his voice. He didn't know why, honestly, but his mind latched onto the incest part of the letter and didn't let go. He took the note from his wallet and showed it to the angel, pulling it back whenever Cas reached out to touch it.

The angel shook his head. "That makes no sense," Castiel looked confused. "Many soulmate pairs have more... amorous relationships." 

"... Many what?"

"Soulmate pairs. The two of you have to be soulmates, God requires it."

The world continued to shatter. The entire issue, entire reason his baby brother was _gone_, a lie. A design by God himself. One more middle finger from the entire fucking world because why not. Dean wanted to cry, scream and throw a fit. Wanted to throw his glass to the ground and roll around in it. 

Instead he repressed. In true Winchester fashion, he filed it away into the back of his brain. The fact stayed on Dean's brain, in the duffel bag in his trunk with a suicide note and a picture and all Dean's hopes and dreams, anywhere but near Dean's lips.


	2. His Glue

Dean felt so used. The entire world seemed to have lied to him. The demons, he expected, but the _angels_, the other hunters. Nobody was properly informed and nobody knew just how wrong they all were until it was far too late.

The battle against Lilith was a tough one; Dean had probably wouldn't have made it had it not been for the team he formed, a few local hunters died. Their faces would forever be etched into Dean's memory. He thought they died for a reason - they thought they'd died for a reason - but in the end, all it did was jumpstart armageddon. The guilt started eating at him the moment the words left the bitch's dying lips. Not only was Lucifer free, Dean had sent an army in to ensure that he was. 

The end is nigh.

* * *

Finding out that an archangel was meant to say yes to your meat suit wasn't exactly the nicest experience, though it did give Den an advantage; all he had to do was say "no". It wasn't like the God Squad was willing to kill him, and even if they did what did it matter? He just had to pick himself back up and find Lucifer - he was the problem to be worried about, the wildcard. Now that he was out and free, nobody knew what he was planning on next.

The biggest factor is finding his true vessel - the one he was in was bound to wear out. Dean needed to find his true vessel and convince the poor sap to say "no". Angels were dicks, and Dean didn't even want to think of what either would be like at full power.

* * *

Lucifer seemed to be calling him, drawing an uncalled for amount of attention to himself, his current temporary fix of a vessel had a smile on his face as he stood on top of a pile of corpses.

"Ah, there he is, the man of the hour!" Lucifer's voice was grating, maybe it was bias, but it made Dean's skin crawl nonetheless. "We've got homework for you, Kiddo!"

"And what kind of himework would that be?" Dean's voice was shaking as well as his hands but his posture was firm as he discreetly signalled for Castiel to get into position, his hands snaking into his pocket for the Colt.

"Well, you see," Lucifer's actions were careless, fluid in a way that both irritated and frightened the hunter. "When I came to retrieve my vessel, he was already dead. So, like any _rational_ archangel, I pulled some strings, fixed a bit, got him up and running, the works."

Dean pulled the gun, nodding along as he mived closer. 

"But the problem is, Sammy just doesn't _trust_ me!" Dean froze at his brother's name, blood running cold. "I need somebody he'll listen to, big brother, maybe? I tried but he already knows I'm not you. And don't worry, I aged him up a bit so your little _desires_ don't get into the illegal territor-"

Dean fired. The bullet barely effected the Devil, bit it barely registered in Dean's head as he pulled the trigger again and again. He was too busy filling the archangel with bullets to see that they weren't doing anything. In the end, Cas had to pry Dean away, opting to abandon the Colt that flew put of the hunter's hands to the Devil's feet.

The angel dragged Dean into the Impala, listening to his cries.

"He can't talk avout Sammy like that, Sammy can't be his vessel, too pure, too good. He can't even say stuff like that-"

When they pulled up directly in front of the motel room - 117 - there was a note on the door. Dean threw it without even a once over, but Cas read Lucifer's _**Enjoy XOXO **_as it fluttered to the ground. 

Dean's world stopped for the second time in his life. 

Asleep on the bed, grown but recognizable, was Sammy. His chest moved up and down, hair tangled and in Dean's LED ZEPPELIN shirt, the one he died in.

Cas walked in behind him, "Dean? What seems to be the problem?"

Dean turned around to shush his friend, but it was too late. As attention turned to him, Sam's hazel eyes flew open, widening in fear.


End file.
